


Primetime

by foxxing (gayfantasticfour)



Category: GOT7
Genre: (feelings with porn), (porn with feelings), Here we go, M/M, Mild Angst, PWF, artist!jaebum, mentions of shownu/jr, musician!jr, ok more like FWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7145339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayfantasticfour/pseuds/foxxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jinyoung's never really been the type to get attached, but when Jackson convinces him to sit for his photographer friend Jaebum, he thinks he might have finally met someone who can change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primetime

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Untitled For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7145192) by [tyd44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyd44/pseuds/tyd44). 



> FOR THE LOML [NANA](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tyd44/pseuds/tyd44)
> 
> ok so this is a companion thing that i wrote--[ it was nana's idea and she wrote from jaebum's POV](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7145192?view_full_work=true) and asked if i would do jr's POV (but let's be real i begged her to let me). So you can read either without having to read the other, but you'll get both perspectives if you read both^^
> 
> Since we're two different writers, if you do read both you'll definitely notice some subtle differences~ but for the most part, they are mostly the same, but through two different pairs of eyes~ 
> 
> it's 4 am and i kind of edited this but as always sorry if there's mistakes slkjlsgj also im shite at tagging things so sorry if i missed something i'm a mess i'm sorry y'all know i'm ugly about jjp when will someone stop me

Jinyoung feels like he’s about to scream. “Oh, my god.”

Jackson just whines, hitting Jinyoung on the arm. Jinyoung pulls a face and twists away, moving from the arm of Jackson’s couch into his kitchen to get out of the older boy’s reach. Jackson pouts at him. “C’mon, Jinyoungie, it’ll be fun!”  
  
It’s barely four in the afternoon and Jackson is already tormenting him. Jinyoung has been diligently working on his new music and though he’s not entirely satisfied with it himself, Jackson is obsessed with it and is  _ dying  _ for him to put it on the internet. Which would be fine with Jinyoung if Jackson wasn’t so damn adamant about making it “badass and official looking”, which, in Jackson’s words, means making an album cover. 

“Jackson-ah, I don’t need an album cover. It’s going on the internet.”

“Exactly!” Jackson waves his arms, as though the word itself proves his point. “So you need a sweet album cover for people to look at and post on their SNS, and stuff.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Then just draw me something. Do I really need to be on the cover of it?”

“Yes,” Jackson says, and Jinyoung sighs, but before he can ask Jackson to elaborate the blond haired boy sighs back at him. “Listen, it’s partially for you but it’s also for my friend. He has this shitty part time job that he hates and he’s a really good photographer and I think getting him out of the studio for once will get him out of his slump.”

“Why do  _ I  _ have to help?” Jinyoung whines, making a face at him. He’s not trying to be mean, but he doesn’t even know the guy that Jackson apparently wants to help, and therefore Jinyoung doesn’t know how letting some guy take pictures of him is going to get anyone out of a slump. 

The smile that unfurls on Jackson’s face is wicked. “Because, he’s cute.”

He fights against the urge to roll his eyes again. Jackson loves to try and use cute boys against him, even though Jackson knows that Jinyoung is very picky and, in his own words, a little stuck-up. “And?”

Jackson’s smile gets more devious, if that’s even possible. “ _ Really  _ cute.”

Jinyoung crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows. “ _ And?”  _

Groaning, Jackson dramatically flings himself down onto the couch. “He’s hot and he’s moody. You’ll love him.”

Hmm. Hot  _ and _ moody? Those are usually the types that get into bed with him and don’t call him the next day, which are his favorite kind. 

“Fine,” Jinyoung says, feigning exasperation. He ignores the way Jackson hollers from the couch with joy and pulls out his cellphone to call mystery photographer boy. 

Jinyoung just watches Jackson quietly, the older boy’s leg hanging off the couch and his boot-clad foot tapping on the hardwood of this apartment floor. Jackson has the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up, and when the mystery boy doesn't answer right away, Jackson makes a noise of frustration. Jinyoung thinks quietly if it's fate–mystery boy doesn't seem to want to answer, and Jinyoung finds himself wondering if he should call Hyunwoo. 

Finally, Jackson jerks into a sitting position. “Jaebum! Why aren't you answering your phone?” Jackson listens to the other boy answer but starts to talk over him. “Ah, sure. Anyways, JB, I have a favor to ask you!” 

Jinyoung just shakes his head, wishing that Jackson knew how to keep his voice down on the phone. He doesn't hear the mystery boy’s answer, but then Jackson is talking over him again. “I know, I know you hate it there. That's why I'm proposing this.” Jackson turns and makes the worst kind of face at Jinyoung over his shoulder. “Listen! I'm gonna give you a chance to do whatever you want here. Just as long as you do this.” 

Jinyoung just listens as Jackson starts and stop his conversation:

“I have a really good friend, he makes this really good music, like some R&B and some dance that is like, mixed—” Pauses. “Okay, so he wants some cool pictures of himself—”

“No I don't,” Jinyoung says, but Jackson waves him off without looking at him. 

“—for the album cover! You know. He's trying to release his own—” Cut off again by the person on the other end. Jackson sighs. “Okay, he wants some photos, you have a camera, my apartment is empty, come for a drink.”

Jackson waits, then says, begging, “please?” A moment later, “Tonight.” This must be an affirmative, because Jackson whoops loudly into the phone before yelling “sure I will!” and hanging up. 

Looking over his shoulder, Jackson throws him a look that Jinyoung finds himself wanting to cringe away from. “He said to dress up.”

Jinyoung pulls a face and scoffs, affronted. “Who the hell is this guy?” 

Rolling his eyes, Jackson stands up off the couch while looking down at his phone. “He’s my friend. And really, he’s a great artist. You should just do it.”

“This is fine,” Jinyoung says hotly, and he smooths down the front of his shirt like he’s self conscious. But really, he isn’t--the black jeans ripped at his thighs are purposeful, and the oversized sweater-knit cardigan covering up the black sleeveless shirt is large enough to make his small frame even smaller. If this so-called artist can't deal with what he’s wearing, then they can agree to a conflict of interest and just call it a night. 

“Sure, sure,” Jackson says, waving him off with one hand while he puts his phone to his ear with the other. The argument is mostly forgotten about when Jackson yells  _ Mark!  _ into the phone and bangs his way up the staircase. Jinyoung distinctly remembers Jackson telling his friend that the apartment was going to be empty, but based on the excited way he’s shouting into the phone upstairs he knows it’s going to turn into a party.

Sighing, Jinyoung pulls his own phone out of his pocket to call Hyunwoo.

  
  
  
  


Hours pass with no sign of this apparent mystery friend of Jackson’s, and by the time it reaches ten o’clock, Jinyoung has already broken into the wine and is drinking it straight out of the bottle, pulling it close to him protectively when someone reaches for it and asks for a drink. Hyunwoo stands mostly behind him all night, a good deal taller than him, and it feels nice to have someone large to lean against, but the emotion is mostly empty. Jinyoung tries not to think about how, since he invited Hyunwoo to this party, he’ll probably have to put out later. It’s not that it’s awful--Hyunwoo knows how to fuck, and Jinyoung likes boys who know how to fuck. But lately he’s been feeling different: hooking up with Hyunwoo a couple of times a week in between flirting with boys at the bars while he’s DJing and occasionally hooking up with some of them, too--he feels a little worn, and the coldness of the empty space in the bed has started to seep into his bones. 

As if sensing how he’s feeling, Hyunwoo leans down to whisper in Jinyoung’s ear, a large hand on his hip and another creeping up the bottom of his shirt. “Are you bored yet?” 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Jinyoung abandons the bottle of rosé on the counter next to them and slips out of Hyunwoo’s grip. “No,” he lies, before winding his way through the handful of people in the living room to stand near the stereo system, hoping that the loud thump of the bass coming from the speakers will eradicate whatever weird mood he’s in. 

Jinyoung is in the middle of deeply examining some ugly glass decoration on the shelf when he hears Jackson start yelling. This isn’t new to him, and he doesn’t turn around right away, eyes still trailing over the ugly pattern on the vase and trying to figure out what the fuck it’s supposed to be. It’s only when he hears Jackson shout, “--my artist friend, Im Jaebum!” that he turns around, interested.

The Im Jaebum that Jackson refers to is standing next to him with his hands shoved in his pockets, slumped slightly at the shoulders like he doesn’t want to be there. Jinyoung huffs a bit of a laugh--he  _ looks _ like the artist type; adorably rumpled in his ripped jeans and wrinkled shirt with a button up done only at the neck. The brassy hair on his head is messy in a cute way that has Jinyoung wondering what it feels like. Turning, he puts the decoration down, and goes to steal another glance at Jaebum when he realizes the older boy is staring right at him.

Jinyoung’s heart stutters momentarily, but his face doesn’t change. Jaebum’s eyes are beautiful--catlike and alert and, if he’s not mistaken, dotted with two little moles above the left one. Jaebum looks away from him quickly as Jackson shoves him forward to meet everyone one on one, and Jinyoung continues to watch him as he does. Jackson was right--he’s very hot, and from the lack of a spectrum of emotions on his face, he’s moody, too. Jackson finally guides Jaebum in front of him, and Jinyoung keeps his face neutral as Jackson says, with a flourish, “and this is Park Jinyoung!” 

He can’t help it--he smiles at Jackson’s enthusiasm. The older boy in front of him just stares at him, face almost blank, and Jinyoung can’t help but feel a little dejected. “Hi. I’m Park Jinyoung.”

“I’m Im Jaebum,” he says, but doesn’t stick his hand out to shake and his face is controlled even as Jackson starts tugging on the messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. Jinyoung feels slightly offended--it’s not like he’d expected Jaebum to be  _ this  _ hot (easily one of the hottest people he’s ever seen, he’d tell Jackson later), and it’s not like he’d expected Jaebum to be entranced by him the way a lot of men are, but...he kind of did, and he’s disappointed when Jaebum looks away.

“Of course,” Jaebum says, in response to a question from Jackson that Jinyoung missed because he was staring at the slope of Jaebum’s nose. Jackson and Jaebum fidget for a moment, Jackson recklessly digging around in the bag until Jaebum scoffs and takes it from him. Jinyoung laughs quietly, and Jaebum’s eyes slide over to him before looking at Jackson again. “Anyway, who did I come for?” 

Jinyoung is jostled when Jackson throws an arm around his shoulders, and he throws his best friend a slightly dirty look. Jackson ignores it. “For Jinyoungie!” 

Again, he’s surprised at how the lack of expression on Jaebum’s face digs at him. Jaebum watches his face for a moment and then looks away, starting to fiddle with the camera and set it up. “How do you want to do this?”

Jinyoung doesn’t know shit about art, except that he thinks Jaebum may be the very definition of it. “However you’d like.” Jaebum nods almost imperceptibly and doesn’t look at him, which makes Jinyoung tug anxiously on his sweater sleeves. “I guess a simple portrait would be fine.”

Jinyoung stands around, watching Jaebum as he sets up, fiddling with a lamp and asking Jackson for a chair. Jackson grabs one of the tall bar stools out of his kitchen, wiggling his eyebrows at him as he passes. Jackson sets it up against the brick wall, quickly moving away so that Jinyoung can sit down on it. The soft light from the lamp isn’t terribly bright, but Jaebum is standing right behind it, so Jinyoung has to squint a little bit to see him. He’s a little startled when Jaebum is already looking at him, an expression on his face Jinyoung can’t quite read. Jinyoung asks if what he’s doing is okay, and then Jinyoung just watches him as he nods and starts messing with the camera settings.

While he does, Jinyoung can’t help but  _ look  _ at him. Jackson wasn’t kidding when he said he was hot: the shape of his face is near perfect, and the swell of his bottom lip when he runs an absentminded tongue over it is incredibly tantalizing. His messy, brassy hair covers his eyes while he works on the camera, and Jinyoung finds himself disappointed by this; he wants to be looking into them, trying to figure them out. The feeling is foreign to him, but he can’t help the way he’s almost desperate to engage him. Softly, he says, “Jackson told me your photographs are quite good.” 

Jaebum glances up quickly before looking down again, face lit by the dim display of the camera. Jinyoung feels Jaebum’s deep voice drip down his back like honey when he speaks. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just an assistant at the studio where I work part-time.”

Smiling, Jinyoung is about to reply when he hears Yugyeom’s loud voice come from somewhere behind Jaebum. “Ah, don’t you know? Our Jaebum is actually a painter!”

The camera shutter starts clicking, but Jinyoung is too distracted by this new information to sit still. He leans over a little, stretching to see their faces around the light. “Really?” 

“Yes!” Jackson chimes in, coming to stand just behind Jaebum, who is furiously taking photos like he’s trying to avoid being a part of the conversation. So he’s humble. That’s cute. Jackson catches Jinyoung’s eye, saying, “I actually have a painting of his here.” 

Jinyoung perks up, interested. “Oh? Where is it?” 

Jackson points behind Jinyoung, a little to his left. “Right there. He gave it to me like, two years ago. I like it.” 

Jinyoung turns his head, hands gripping the seat between his legs as he does. The painting isn’t huge, but it’s beautiful--a painting of a woman, her legs spread and her dress rucked up around her hips, half reclining. The smudges of charcoal are expertly, beautifully placed, and her dark eyes seem to hold Jinyoung’s as he looks at the painting, part of him suddenly and horribly desperate to get to know the enigma behind such a beautiful work of art. His heart thumps when he realizes that Jaebum may have used a live reference. Jinyoung tries to rid himself of the blush creeping up his neck before he turns back around, so he asks a question and keeps his face mostly hidden. “Does it have a name?” 

“I have a hard time naming things,” Jaebum replies, and Jinyoung can feel the older boy’s eyes on his face, which isn’t helping. But the rosé and the attention has him feeling a little giddy, and he covers his mouth with his hand as he laughs. He’s about to say something else when Bambam’s loud voice interrupts, 

“Shouldn’t you pose or something?” followed by playful laughter. 

Jinyoung looks at Jaebum, raising his eyebrows in lieu of asking for direction, and Jaebum just nods. “You can try something out, sure.”

Jinyoung is used to preening. He does it for the older boys he sleeps with all the time, constantly showing off his shoulders or his legs or the curve of his neck without blinking an eye, but something about being under Jaebum’s close scrutiny makes him a bit shy. He does the normal things: tilts his head this way and that, arches his back, keeping his hands centered on the stool between his legs. 

After a few moments, Jaebum looks up at him from behind the camera. “Why don’t you try something with your hands?”

This he’s a little unsure of: the things he wants to do with his hands are inappropriate for saying out loud; filthy and unspeakable. The things he can do with his hands are the same: he’s used to framing his own body with them, fingers long and careful, his stomach starting to twist with the dirty directions of his thoughts. He brings them up and fiddles with the material of his sweater instead, eyes locked on Jaebum’s and thinking of all the things he’d  _ really  _ like to be doing with hands before remembering that Jaebum is probably straight and he should relax.

Eyes moving beyond Jaebum to the group of people behind them in the living room, he watches as Yugyeom sways, open bottle in his hand swinging dangerously. “Do sexy! Sexy concept!” 

He rolls his eyes, but Yugyeom seems to be loving it, giggling loudly, and he loves to tease Yugyeom anyway, so he does it. He arches his back as far as he can, clasping one wrist with the opposite hand and stretching them above his head. The sweater slips a little, exposing the side of his body where the sleeveless shirt is ripped and showing his torso. He’s still looking at Yugyeom and grinning, but he can feel Jaebum’s eyes on him from the corner of his vision and tries to ignore it. “Like this?” 

Yugyeom peals laughter, throwing an arm across Youngjae’s shoulders. “No! No! You can do better than that!”

“Of course I can,” he replies, grinning madly, and he tries to ignore the steadily rising beat of his heart as he turns back toward Jaebum. He looks at the older boy for a moment, and his dark eyes are shuttered, impassive. Jinyoung doesn’t really know how to interpret the way Jaebum is clutching his camera so hard his knuckles look white, so he just shifts on the bar stool and tries to deliver. Jinyoung closes his eyes for a moment, letting the rosé warm him up a bit, and then he feels that familiar sense of eroticism come over him, and he opens his eyes to look directly into the lens. Jinyoung lets his sweater slip down one shoulder halfway down his arm, and he pushes a shoulder forward so that the low cut of his shirt exposes just the barest hint of a nipple. He takes the opposite hand and gets it up under the hem of his shirt, and he has to suppress the shudder that builds up in his body when his fingertips touch his skin. Jaebum is simultaneously watching him from the lens of the camera and above it, a sharp glint in his eye while he watches him that feels very, very dangerous. Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and biting a little bit before dropping his mouth open in a way that’s supposed to be appealing, he wonders if they’ve all felt the drop in the atmosphere or if it’s just him, drunk and slightly horny. 

Jaebum looks up from behind the camera, face closed off, and Jinyoung suddenly loses a bit of his sex-charged steam. He hadn’t been expecting the “hot, moody” artist to be  _ quite  _ so hot and moody, and Jinyoung desperately tries to shake the image of Jaebum hovering over him out of his head. He’s spared from thinking about it much longer when the doorbell rings, breaking the atmosphere and has all their heads swinging toward the door. Seemingly spared from taking more pictures, Jaebum lets the camera drop to his side and turns it off with one hand as Bambam loudly thanks God for girls.   
  


The “chill” night Jackson had been promising turns into a full blown party, but for once, Jinyoung isn’t really in the mood for it. After Jaebum had turned off the lamp and returned it to its place, camera disappearing into his bag and a beer ending up in his hand, he hadn’t looked at Jinyoung again and he felt defeated. He wanders off, reclaiming his earlier abandoned bottle of rosé and taking a massive drink of it, pulling a face at how warm it is but not caring. Hyunwoo finds him in the kitchen a few minutes later, a slight flush to the older boy’s cheeks and a smile in his eyes that usually Jinyoung finds charming enough to take his pants off for but tonight just looks empty. Hyunwoo boxes him in against the counter, dipping down to nuzzle his face against Jinyoung’s neck, and Jinyoung’s thankful that Hyunwoo can’t see him roll his eyes. 

Wriggling, Jinyoung ducks down and out of his arms, bottle of rosé in one hand and lazily beckoning Hyunwoo with the other to follow him toward the stairs. Hyunwoo follows, sitting above Jinyoung and pulling him in between his thighs, immediately starting to go into detail about some thing that happened at his dance studio that, honestly, Jinyoung only pays half attention to. As he drinks the rosé straight out of the bottle he finds his eyes wandering, searching for a certain beautiful, catlike face, disappointing himself everytime when he doesn’t see it. He wonders with a wounded shock if Jaebum had left already. Hyunwoo puts a hand on his neck, forcing him to look up, and as much as he doesn’t really feel anything for him, he can’t deny Hyunwoo is cute, and the look on the older boy’s face makes him smile a little. Jinyoung tugs anxiously on his sweater, laughing quietly at whatever Hyunwoo had said, letting him lean in to whisper things in his ear that all just sound like  _ let’s get out of here so we can fuck.  _ Which would normally be appealing to him, but isn’t tonight.

Taking a huge swallow of the wine in his hand, Jinyoung leans back and shakes his head. He stands up, one foot on the step below him to make it clear he's going to leave. “Nah, not tonight.” 

Hyunwoo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

Jinyoung shrugs, bottle gripped loosely in one hand. “Yeah.”

The older boy looks at him in disbelief and scoffs a bit. “You’re suddenly not feeling it?” 

Setting his jaw, Jinyoung looks at Hyunwoo with challenge in his eyes. “No.” 

“You seemed to be feeling it earlier when you invited me over.” Hyunwoo trails a hand along Jinyoung’s neck, across his shoulder and pushing the sleeve of his sweater down as he drags his fingers along his arm. 

“That was a few hours ago,” he says, and it’s a bit lame, but he shrugs after. “Goodnight, hyung,” and then he’s jumping the last few stairs, swaying a little on his feet.

He didn’t really have an exit plan after that, and he’s about to just go lay across the laps of everyone on the couch (half of whom he doesn’t even know) when he sees a familiar set of broad shoulders in the corner leaned against a radiator, handsome face illuminated by the screen of a camera. 

His heart contracts a little, confused and exhilarated by the feeling that Jaebum’s face gives him, and he makes his way over to him. He announces his arrival by plunking the half-full bottle of rosé down next to him, folding himself up on the floor directly after, face turned toward Jaebum’s. He’s awfully satisfied when, for the first time today, there’s a hint of emotion in Jaebum’s face that’s a direct result of him: a blush creeps up his neck, staining his cheeks even in the dim light of the corner. “Hey, there,” he says, a bit shyly, and Jaebum just looks at him. Jinyoung nervously takes another drink from the bottle, almost too aware of Jaebum’s eyes on his mouth where his lips are wrapped around the bottleneck. Warmth spreads in his stomach, and he tries to take his mind off it by pointing at the beer in Jaebum’s hand. “Isn’t that empty by now?” 

Jaebum’s mouth pulls up at the corner in a half smile and oh, Christ, if it isn’t the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jinyoung holds the bottle of rosé out to him. “Want some?” 

His chest warms when Jaebum takes it after an almost imperceptible pause, and it’s Jinyoung’s turn to watch his mouth as he drinks. His own mouth dries out, and he looks way and down at Jaebum’s camera. “How’d the pictures turn out?” 

“I think they turned out fine,” Jaebum says, turning the camera toward him a little, his warm breath ghosting across Jinyoung’s cheek with how close they’re sitting. He shifts to get a better look, their thighs pressing together, and Jinyoung swallows hard but doesn’t mention it. They sit like that for a long time, looking through the pictures that Jaebum had taken, making impressed noises at some of the better ones and laughing unabashedly at the ones where Jinyoung is at half-blink or making some other ridiculous face as he talks to someone off screen. Their shoulders brush every so often as Jinyoung leans in to zoom in on certain pictures, his heartbeat picking up at their proximity and his nerves crackling every time Jaebum’s hand brushes his. He wonders if the older boy is feeling the same way as he is, but he doesn’t really want to dwell on it. 

“There’s something missing, though,” Jinyoung finally says, getting an idea. When Jaebum looks at him, Jinyoung stutters. “I...I don’t mean that your photos are lacking. I just think we could do more.” 

Jaebum pulls a face like he agrees, nodding slightly. Jinyoung feels a bolt of warmth go through him when he realizes that they think alike.

Suddenly excited, Jinyoung grabs Jaebum’s wrist. “Listen, you got flash on that thing?” 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

Jinyoung knows there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eye, and he only hopes that Jaebum doesn’t think he’s crazy. “Wanna get out of here?” 

  
  
  
  


Finally free of the stuffy and cramped atmosphere of Jackson’s house party, they take off running down the dimly lit street. 

Loosened by the alcohol and feeling unburdened for once, Jinyoung positively screams with laughter as Jaebum chases him along the sidewalk, the older boy having no trouble keeping up with him. His heart feels lighter than it has in years as he feels Jaebum’s hand occasionally swipe the back of his cardigan, whether to slow him down or pull him in he isn’t sure, but he knows that he loves the sound of Jaebum’s laugh when Jinyoung twists away from his hands. Their voices echo off the walls of the tall buildings lining the streets of Jackson’s neighborhood, the two of them shouting and laughing and calling to each other, their breath coming out in pants as they get farther and farther away from Jackson’s house as they run. Jinyoung ends up chasing Jaebum at some point, and his heart lurches when Jaebum turns a corner too fast and almost eats it, but he finds his balance and takes off again, laugh snatched by the wind. Jinyoung can’t help but feel the night go in slow motion as he runs behind him, Jaebum’s open shirt trailing behind him like the cape of some dark and mysterious superhero, brassy hair turned to bronze under the orange of the street lamps, ruffled by the wind as he runs. His messenger bag bumps against his lower back, and Jinyoung laughs freely as he finally catches up enough to grab onto it. Jaebum jerks back into him, cackling, and Jinyoung catches him around the waist before letting him go. 

They stand leaning against each other for a minute, breathing hard and laughing breathlessly whenever they look at each other, and then Jinyoung is finally standing up straight and looking around. They’re in a less-great part of town, where there’s trash on the streets and in the empty lots between massive buildings and graffiti on the walls. Jinyoung grabs Jaebum’s wrist, surprised when Jaebum lets him, and drags him toward the graffitied walls. “C’mon, let’s take pictures of this.”

Jaebum snaps pictures of him doing all sorts of different things, like posing next to some slightly ominous graffiti and laying spread eagle on the hood of a car that doesn’t belong to him. They watch for cars as Jinyoung lays in the middle of the street, black clothes against the dirty gray of the asphalt, the orange lights on the street like brightly burning stars. He stares up into them as Jaebum moves around him, looking like a vision when he leans over him to take a picture and his wide shoulders blotting out the streetlight. Jinyoung swallows nervously but Jaebum just snaps photos without question, instructing Jinyoung on occasion to turn this way or that, taking a hundred million photos of him. Jinyoung is about to suggest that they find their way back home when he sees a massive pile of trash directly under a streetlight in a vacant lot, and he takes off toward it with Jaebum in tow. He climbs on top of it, shoes sliding on some of the trash, careful not to put a hand down in broken glass.  
  
When he gets to the top of it, he looks down at Jaebum, who’s just watching him, camera at his side. Jinyoung breaks out in a smile so wide it makes his face hurt, and the smile that Jaebum returns to him is just as painful as it is beautiful. There’s a ton of bottles at his feet, and Jinyoung picks some up and starts wildly smashing them, watching in awe at the bits of glass glitter in the low light of the street. Jaebum jumps back, laughing, and he pulls his camera out again to start taking more pictures as Jinyoung breaks bottle after gorgeous bottle, until finally there’s no more. 

Feeling high on the booze and the night and the beautiful boy below him, Jinyoung closes his eyes and spreads his arms out wide, chest puffed out. The light wind ruffles his hair and blows his cardigan behind him, feeling so much like he’s invincible and vulnerable all at once. He looks down at Jaebum after a minute, who’s just watching him again, expression calm but unreadable. A slow smile breaks out on the older boy’s face.

“Look at me,” Jinyoung says.

“I am looking at you,” Jaebum says back, voice a bit unsteady. “I’m taking pictures, aren’t I?” 

He thinks of all the men he’s slept with, all the boys he’d conned into thinking they’d get something more than just a good night’s fuck of him when that’s all he wanted, and he thinks how he’d trade every single one of those nights for even one single do-over of this night with Jaebum. Jinyoung smiles. “I’m king of the world.”

Jaebum starts to laugh, open and wonderful and real, and Jinyoung’s chest expands. Arms still spread wide, he looks at the way Jaebum’s face changes with laughter, his closed eyes, his mouth open and lights glinting off his perfect teeth. Jinyoung wants to feel those teeth in his neck like a vampire, tearing him open, cutting him down to the very insides, raw and exposed and out of control. He comes down the pile of trash, skidding a bit when the gets to the bottom, careening into Jaebum. Jaebum catches him with one hand on his waist, Jinyoung’s skin tingling where his hand touches. Looking at Jaebum’s face shyly and then away, he leans to grab Jaebum’s wrist and pull the camera closer. They look through the last few that he’d taken, laughing a little, and then Jinyoung is taking the camera from his hand and turning it toward them.

He presses their faces together, slightly sticky from the sweat. “Let’s take a picture!” he says, and clicks the shutter button before Jaebum has the chance to argue. 

Turning it back toward them, Jinyoung is struck a little dumb by the picture they make side by side: Jaebum’s effortlessly handsome face squished next to his, smiling so hard that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes are showing. “We look cute.”

Jaebum looks away from him, and he might still be drunk but he thinks Jaebum’s shoulders are stiff with tension. “I guess we’re done for the night.”

Jinyoung just laughs, trying to keep the mood up, acutely aware of the way that Jaebum won’t look at him. “I guess so. But you gotta send me these, as soon as possible. I have to have them.”

“I will.”

“Oh! And you need to send me some of your paintings.”

Finally, Jaebum looks back up at him. “Uh, I don’t really have them photographed.”

Jinyoung is about to say something when Jaebum nervously finishes,

“...but you can come see them, if you like.”

Jinyoung’s heart kicks up a gear. “Right now?” 

Jaebum, if he’s hesitant, doesn’t show it. “Yeah. If you want to.” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more in his life. “I do.”

  
  
  


They eventually decide on a taxi, since both of them are too drunk to drive or walk that far, and Jinyoung silences all of Jaebum’s protests against him paying by saying that he’s going to pay for it since Jaebum just took a million photos of him. While Jinyoung is on the phone with the cab service, he notices Jaebum starting to sway a little, and he reaches out to steady him with a hand on his arm. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, smiling a little, and Jinyoung doesn’t remove his hand. The feeling of Jaebum’s skin under his palm is electric. He wonders if Jaebum feels the same. “Sometimes my body doesn’t listen.”

They pile into the back of the cab when it arrives, Jaebum leaning his head against his window and closing his eyes. Jinyoung doesn’t want to bother him, so he makes himself content just watching him, admiring the line of his jaw and the unbearably pleasant curve of his mouth. Jinyoung wants to kiss him until he stops breathing.

Finally the cab arrives at Jaebum’s house, and he wakes Jaebum up with a gentle hand on the other boy’s thigh. He pretends he doesn’t notice how charged it feels, but then Jaebum opens his eyes and is looking at Jinyoung through eyes half lidded and heavy, Jinyoung’s own feelings finally mirrored in his eyes. He swallows. “Jaebummie, we’re here. I paid the driver already.”

They get out, not saying anything to each other, but the silence is companionable instead of awkward. Jinyoung stays close to Jaebum’s back as he unlocks the front door, holding it open for Jinyoung and then moving up the stairs to the door to his apartment. Jinyoung feels suddenly a little anxious, and he swallows audibly behind Jaebum’s back as he unlocks his door. He notices the line of Jaebum’s back stiffen. 

Once inside, Jinyoung takes off his shoes next to Jaebum and then moves into the rest of the apartment uninvited. His eyes are wide at all the paintings on the walls and stashed in the corners of the room, his bed in one corner and the rest taken up by a long table and a small kitchen fit for barely two people. The color of Jaebum’s frustration is everywhere--paint stains the walls and the floor, but it looks beautiful where it’s smeared on the canvases, in the shapes of women and cats and other beautiful things. Jinyoung moves to the long table while Jaebum is in the kitchen, and he gently moves a stack of charcoal drawings to fan them out so that he can see them, nude photo after nude photo. They’re stunning, men and women in various poses and of varying builds, the smudging of the charcoal so perfect in some places that he could cry. He hears Jaebum come up behind him, and he’s a bit too stunned by the beauty of his artwork to really articulate what he wants to say, so he just touches them gently and says, 

“You’re so good.”

Jaebum laughs quietly behind him, the feeling of his breath making Jinyoung’s shoulders draw up slightly, stomach flipping. “Thank you. It’s really nothing much.”

“I like them.”  _ I like you.  _ He doesn’t know which he meant to say but he’s pretty sure that he means both. “You seem to do a lot of nudes.”

Jinyoung looks over his shoulder at Jaebum, whose dark eyes are already on him and focused, as though they hadn’t just been drinking for hours and then running around the street. His heart starts to beat harder, mouth drying out a little bit. He licks his lips and Jinyoung can hear the blood rush in his ears when Jaebum’s eyes follow it. When did the air get so charged?

After a moment, Jaebum answers him. “Yeah... I do. I like how the human body moves.” 

Is Jaebum a little breathless or is he imagining it? 

He must be imagining it. 

“You do?” he asks, ashamed when his own voice is a little breathless, feeling unsteady. There’s a warmth in his stomach that grows when he runs a hand along the table and Jaebum follows it with his eyes, humming in response.

Jinyoung feels crazy. So crazy about this mysterious, brooding artist that he’s going to go for it. He drops his shoulders back, repressing the shudder that wants to pass over him at the sensation of his sweater falling from his arms. “Would you do mine, then?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for an answer, isn’t sure what would happen if he did. His shirt comes next, pulling it swiftly over his head and letting it drop to the floor on top of his sweater, Jinyoung’s eyes on the line of Jaebum’s throat when he swallows hard. Jinyoung doesn’t know if he should be satisfied or worried when Jaebum’s hand shakes as he goes to undo the button of his shirt at this throat.

Before Jinyoung even has time to say  _ then come and get it,  _ Jaebum is spreading the button up behind his hips, breathing out, “Yeah, I will,” before grabbing Jinyoung by the waist and pulling their bodies together.

Jaebum’s mouth finds his, head tilting down, and Jinyoung opens his mouth for him immediately, whining against his teeth. Heat flares up inside of him when their mouths connect, eating him up from the inside and setting him on fire, pushing closer to Jaebum who just gets his hands on his back and tries to pull him closer. Jaebum’s hands are hot when they slide up his back to his shoulder blades, fingers digging in a little and gasping when Jinyoung nips at his bottom lip. When that’s not close enough, Jaebum backs him up into the table, gripping the wood on each side of Jinyoung’s hips. The hard line of Jaebum’s body pushing his into the table sends a flash of heat through him, sweat starting to gather at his temples, and he runs his hands teasingly up Jaebum’s sides before gripping the older boy’s shoulders. Jinyoung pushes impatiently at the sleeves of Jaebum’s button up, wanting to see and taste and  _ devour  _ as much of Im Jaebum as he can in case this is the last chance he’ll ever get, and Jaebum does him one better by ridding himself of both shirts at once. Jinyoung hiccups on a gasp, earning him a devastatingly handsome crooked smile before Jaebum leans down to kiss and bite marks into Jinyoung’s neck with his mouth. The pleasure-pain of Jaebum’s teeth in his neck drags a low moan out of him that Jaebum seems to enjoy, his hips pushing him harder against the table. Jinyoung rolls his hips up into Jaebum’s, groin pooling with heat at the sensation, and then Jaebum gets his hands on Jinyoung’s hips to turn him around roughly. Jinyoung’s hands go out to catch himself, knocking over some art supplies, but from the lopsided sound of the way Jaebum is breathing and peppering desperate kisses along the skin of Jinyoung’s bare back, he thinks it’ll be alright. Jaebum leans over him, kissing at his neck and biting playfully at his ear, torturously rolling his hips so that his dick grinds against Jinyoung’s ass through their jeans. He keens, high pitched and needy, reaching back to grab Jaebum’s hair as Jaebum tortures him by slowly rolling his hips up against his ass.

“Jaebum,” he breathes, all the need and the want and the lust that he’s ever felt, so fake before this, so forced, but Jaebum gets it so easily, and it’s just not  _ fair,  _ he didn’t even know Jaebum before today but already the older boy has him wanting to make promises he could never keep before. “Jaebum.” 

This seems to do something to him, because then Jaebum is reaching around and roughly palming Jinyoung’s dick through his jeans. He moans, the sound deeper and needier when Jaebum undoes his jeans and gets a hand inside his boxers. The teasing seems to last forever, Jaebum’s hand working slow but expertly, making Jinyoung whine into his own shoulder and beg under his breath. He grinds his dick into Jaebum’s palm, desperate for friction, the feeling drawing him up until he’s panting and biting his lips. His stomach drops when Jaebum pulls his hand away, Jinyoung emitting a needy, desperate whine that has Jaebum whispering out a mumbled  _ jesus fuck _ under his breath. All at once, Jaebum is yanking his pants to mid-thigh, knuckles brushing against his bare ass as he undoes his own belt and shoves his pants down. Jaebum leans up and gets two fingers into Jinyoung’s mouth and he knows what that’s for, and he sucks on Jaebum’s fingers as dirty as he can make it, satisfied at the wrecked look that crosses Jaebum’s features when he does it, moaning around them just to make it worse. Jaebum’s bottom lip disappears between his teeth, his cock sliding against Jinyoung’s skin when Jaebum rolls his hips forward like he can’t help himself. Jinyoung blinks slowly, eyes locked on Jaebum’s as he moans around the way Jaebum is trying not to finger fuck his mouth. Satisfied, Jaebum is pulling his fingers back with a wet noise and reaching down between them to finger him open.

Jinyoung’s head drops down, Jaebum’s fingers inside him like they belong there, and he almost has to wonder if Jaebum has done this before with how good he is at it. He fucks him with his fingers nice and slow until Jinyoung is wet and begging, hips rolling down onto Jaebum’s hand and desperate for friction. Jaebum’s fingers aren’t long but they’re talented, and Jinyoung  _ definitely  _ thinks he’s done this before as Jaebum continues to work his fingers inside him. Jinyoung’s breath punches out of him, high and whining, arms weak where he’s propped himself up to arch his back and get Jaebum’s fingers deeper. Just when he’s about to lose it, he finally pulls out and Jinyoung barely has time to breathe before Jaebum slicks himself up and pushes inside, slowly and carefully and with all the finesse of an expert. Jinyoung breathes out the filthiest moan he can muster, dropping to his forearms on the table as Jaebum pushes in and out of him, setting the pace for a rhythm so torturously good he has to tell himself not to scream because of the neighbors. But god, if he doesn’t want to, Jaebum pulling almost all the way out just to push all the way back in torturously slow, breath quiet but sounding wrecked when he exhales curses. Just when Jinyoung feels like it’s too much, his dick so hard it hurts and the heat in his stomach like a forest fire, Jaebum pulls out and flips him, getting his jeans all the way off and then, in one swift and Herculean movement, getting Jinyoung’s knees up over his shoulders and pushing back in all the way to the hilt. Jinyoung’s mind goes white, forgetting to be quiet and shouting in pleasure, the feeling completely overriding any common sense. He arches his back as much as it’ll bend as Jaebum pushes into him, hands on his hips and his breathing rough and erratic. Jinyoung can barely hear it, can barely focus on anything except the way Jaebum is slamming into him now, the cups of art supplies rattling on the table. Jinyoung’s elbows are sore where they’re supporting half his weight on the table, head dropped back and filth flowing from his mouth with every jackknife of Jaebum’s hips into him. Finally Jinyoung begs him, says, “hyung, please touch me, please, please,” and then Jaebum gets one hand around his dick and it doesn’t take long before Jinyoung’s seeing stars. Jinyoung nearly sobs when his orgasm rips through his body, back bending, coming across Jaebum’s chest where he’s leaned over him and onto his stomach. He whimpers pathetically and keeps rolling his hips down when Jaebum thrusts up once, twice, three more times before he pushes up into him and shouts through his release, teeth sinking into Jinyoung’s collarbone. 

They stay still for a moment, Jaebum kissing and licking the spot where his teeth had just been. His hands still hold Jinyoung by the hips, gently now instead of desperately, and there’s a sweetness in the gesture that he isn’t sure he’s deserving of. Jaebum pulls out of him a moment later, leaving him a little empty, and he can’t help but admire the beautiful shape of the older boy’s body as he pulls up his underwear and kicks off his jeans. Jaebum smiles shyly at him when he notices. Jinyoung laughs breathlessly as Jaebum helps him down from the table, the two of them cleaning up and then collapsing onto Jaebum’s mattress on the floor in their underwear, infinitely more tired than they had been when they’d gotten there. Jinyoung is amazed at how sated he feels--Jaebum’s eyes roam over him sleepily, stopping here and there for long periods of time, and Jinyoung wonders absently how someone so mysterious and quiet could shake up what he’s known to be true about himself in so short of a time period. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Jaebum says, but his face splits in a smile. “You’re just so beautiful.” 

His heart stutters, almost painfully. Boys have called him beautiful before; they’ve called him beautiful when he comes for them, or when he’s going down on them in cars parked behind movie theatres; Hyunwoo calls him beautiful every time they fuck, but this...he likes Jaebum’s definition of beautiful infinitely more than he ever thought was possible, and he doesn’t think anyone’s ever really called him  _ beautiful  _ until now. He flushes, shying away from the thought. They don’t know each other that well, and it’s a dangerous line of thinking. He changes the subject. “You still owe me that drawing.”

Jaebum sits up, Jinyoung admiring the expanse of his back for a moment, the skin stretched over his wide shoulders, so beautiful tan and unmarked. He isn’t sure what it means when he thinks about how much he wants to ruin it with his nails and then kiss over the marks with his mouth. “I can still do it, alright--” but then Jinyoung throws his arm around Jaebum’s waist and pulls him back down into bed before he could grab the sketchbook lying on the floor at the foot of it. “Please,” Jinyoung says, asking for something that he’s not sure he really knows how to ask for. “Stay close to me.” 

But Jaebum seems to understand, and he pulls Jinyoung close, so close that Jinyoung can hear the strong, steady beat of the older boy’s heart under his ear. He closes his eyes, thinking that this could be the start of something new, untainted by selfishness and surface level lust; unfucked and innocent and promising. 

Jaebum’s voice is soft, terribly so, and Jinyoung feels his heart burst even as his eyes close. “Okay. I will.”

He thinks, on the verge of sleep, that this could be something, perhaps, beautiful.  
Something like art.


End file.
